


Behind Closed Doors

by thru_just_passin



Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Drama & Romance, F/F, F/M, Speculation, post 2x12
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-07
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 03:10:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12026853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thru_just_passin/pseuds/thru_just_passin
Summary: The cult has risen and with its resurrection brings a new threat to Purgatory. While Wynonna deals with her end of things, the others must also pick up their pace and figure out a way to protect their loved ones. Question is, are allies really just allies, are enemies really just enemies, and just how much is everyone hiding from each other?Occurs after season 2 and focuses mainly on Nicole Haught's backstory with a bit of involvement from the Purgatory case files.





	1. Humanless Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Perhaps this will be three chapters or so, but this is just a little something about my theory on the whole Nicole Haught, Xavier Dolls, Jeremy, and the cult scene at the end of season 2. This chapter is merely an introduction for the next update, but it is also being used for my own benefit to get a read on the feel for the readers. Hope everyone is having a wonderful day and don't forget to drink water! Water is great for you. I mean, so is vodka. Anyways.... back to the story!

Day barely breaks into the evening, growing into twilight with each passing moment and with it, brings a new shadow slowly making its way across the fields of Purgatory. While not entirely the point of dusk, the trees, rocks, and all else which casts a shadow, grew more, alive. Shadows are faceless yet they hold so much about one's self. A man without a nation is like a man without his shadow. What happens, though, if a shadow exists without the man. Does the notion of a nationless man exist or is he the very nation itself? An entire nation for just him. A nation where there are no followers or leaders and a nation entirely fit for a being whose existence simply, wanders. Wandering across other lands for decades, centuries, **hell** , potentially even millenniums, and yet the endless variety of decisions made by humans is infinite. Twirling his baton in his left hand and holding a half-finished lit cigar in the right, he whistles an eerie tune into the air; the tune is soothing, but also causes birds to fly in the opposite direction of its origin. These birds know. These birds know who to avoid, and this whistling figure is not the animal lover of any sorts. A lover of children, that he is, and how could anyone blame him? Humans are terrified of death, but what is there to be afraid of than being put into the ground, both literally and figuratively. But children, however, dear sweet children, just as quickly as they entered the world, they must also be lead back to the underworld. _Cruel._ The clouds shed no light for him, nor do the shadows capture his skeleton-like figure. White gloves cover his hands and his right is the half-lit cigar, with each passing step, slowly singes away. Its size and color gives way to something spicy to the taste. A bit weaker than his preference, but this taste will do. _Mortals are rotten pigs deserving of places worse than hell, but these fucking pigs sure did something right when they made cigars._ He places his lips to the cigar and takes a deep inhale and exhale of smoke. 

The town of Purgatory has its ups and downs, but one thing is for sure, at least **SOMEONE** in the shitty dust bowl of a town found the good stuff. _Puff._ In goes the smoke. _Puff._ Out goes the smoke. Black and gray clouds escape his chapped lips. The smoke clears, gifting him with the vision of a stone well with a large wooden top covering its belongings. He grins. He grins with a smile so gruesome, the devil himself would shiver. As he approaches the well, he takes one last puff from his cigar before putting out its singe by crushing the end on the surface of the wooden top. “Now, what do we have here?” He asks, still whistling his tune. Using his baton. he proceeds to push the top off the well. Careful of only showing enough light to see the contents at the bottom, he peers down the well only to be greeted with the smell of dried mildew and a groan of despair, “Well, well, well if it isn’t Mr. Bobo Del Rey.” He hovers slightly over the top and chuckles at his own word play.

Bobo sits at the bottom of the well’s floor with strange markings drawn on the ground. “Arrghh, and here I was enjoying some me time.” Bobo says, his strength had yet to return to its peak, nonetheless, his vision could make out the figure above him. If the black tail coat and dark glasses were not evident enough, the skull-like face surely made things much clearer as who Bobo’s visitor from the surface, and boy is the sight a sight for sore eyes.

“O kwa, o jibile, O kwa, o jibile. Ou pa we m inosan?” He says, cocking his head to the right side, “or should I say, Oh, cross. Oh, jubilee. Don't you see I'm innocent?” He translates, changing to a more monotonous tone. A simple tune to onlookers, but to those who wish for more, they knew the rhyme’s true purpose, a second chance at life - ufortunately for Bobo, this is not the case.

Bobo’s mouth and right eye twitches, “Baron Samedi.” He says, glaring at the skeletal figure. This man, or what is left of the man, has the presence of a more shapely figure. His normal appearance is one much more, elegant, charming, and a bit of muscle on the bones. However, between the passing time of his summoning he retains a figure similar to a half skeletal and half human, well, as humanly as one can get without making an understatement.  

He laughs manically, “The one and only!” He shouts, taking one step on the edge of the well and taps onto the surface of the wooden top with his baton before speaking in his deep nasal voice, “Seem those damn Earps and scoundrel Holiday put you here?” 

“I didn’t summon you. I might not look too great, but I’m far from dying.” Bobo lets out, the pain still evident in his weakened voice. Revenant, humans, and anything walking from the heavens to the depths of hell knew of the man who supersedes death. He who bows down to no one, not even to the hand which can create or destroy lives, he is the wanderer between life and death. He spits profanity out like the way he fucks his women, full of obscenity and frequently. The man known as Loa of the Dead, Baron Samedi. Bobo, with what strength he had left, musters up a chuckle, “Or did someone else summon you?”

"Were you hoping it was your dear Willa?" He asks, smirking at the look on Bobo's disillusioned face, "Wait, I personally took the whore back to the underworld."

"Shut up!" Bobo yells, slamming his hand to the wall of the well. _Calm down, Robert. That's just how he talks._  

Samedi pulls a small bottle of his medication from his coat pocket, the bottle filled half-way with clear liquid and half-way with green and red peppers. Slowly uncorking the top, he takes a swig from its contents and swallows. As the feeling of ecstasy burns his throat, he releases a satisfying, “Ah.” He smiles, returning his attention to Bobo, “Now, don’t tell me you aren’t excited to see me.” He says, taking another swig from the bottle, “Pardon this fowl way of drinking, but my normal glass is not at my disposal.” He clicks his tongue, looking at the bottle of which he is taking swigs of, _how barbaric._ Samedi is not one to normally drink directly from the bottle, nor is he the type for spending time with men such as Bobo. He crouches down to where his bony arms rest on the well’s rim, “I just happen to be strolling by and smelled something,” He grumbles, taking in a big whiff of the air “decaying.”

Bobo lets out a grunt, “Well, pardon my rudeness, but looks like I am the cause of that smell.” He rolls his eyes and signals to both his hand using a nod of the head, “As you can see, I haven’t been able to clean up the blood from my unpleasant guests.” Bobo knew Samedi never showed himself unless a summoning had been made, unless he was looking for something or someone. “No disrespect, but you are hardly the type to just casually wander around.” He says, standing up from his sitting position. Bobo points to the bottle held in Samedi’s hand, “And from the looks of your gifts, seems like someone quite important must have summoned you to be drinking straight from the bottle instead of a glass like a civilized being.”    

Samedi shakes around the contents in the bottle, turning his attention back down to Bobo, “Aren’t you always the smart one. You’re right. Someone quite powerful did summon me and,” He chuckles, remembering the look upon Bulshar Clootie’s face when the two were face to face. Previously, Samedi had seemingly been vanished by the setting fire upon his hat. _That damn red-head actually lit his hat on fire._ His face clenches and his mood slowly darkens. One moment he was burning, the next, he was at the presence of Bulshar. Samedi continues speaking to Bobo, “And while I am not a fan of his own ideals, I can tolerate his love for women. Plus,” He tucks the bottle under his arm and pulls out the cigar from coat, “look at all these gifts!” He exclaims, putting the cigar back into his pocket. 

Someone even Samedi calls powerful? There must be only one demon. “My Lord summoned you?” Bobo asks, listening attentively to Samedi’s new information.

“I’ll be damned to call him a Lord of anything,” Samedi says, pinching his nose at the whiff fowl combination of mildew, iron, and Bobo. “This smell of shit and decay is seeping into my clothing,” He takes another drink from his bottle before screwing the lid back on and placing it back into his coat pocket. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a date with a red-haired officer.”

His white gloves seem fuller than before and the once skeletal face now has a visible epidermis. He peers down from his glasses and gives one last smile to Bobo. Unlike his other smiles, this one seems more sadistic. Perhaps the very essence of a demon, no, not a demon; a demon is scary, but something about this smile did not scream evil. Creepy, cruel, and maybe psychotic but there was nothing evil about his grin. No, this crooked smile of his enjoys becoming part of games. Win, lose, or continue? No matter which side he plays for, there is a continuous cycle of someone either winning or losing. Once the game is finishes, another one begins, thus continues the cycle of a winner or loser. For right now, this smile represents one of pleasure, to whom this pleasure is aimed towards, he too, will find out. “I’m sure we will meet again Mr. Bobo Del Rey.” Just as easily as he opened the lid, Samedi did the same to re-cover the well, thus leaving Bobo with a puzzling look.

 _Red-haired officer?_ Bobo wonders to himself. A face flashes before his mind and he begins laughing to himself. He sits back down and continues his finger movements on the ground of the well, “Oh, little angel, looks like the Baron has eyes on your own angel.”

Walking away from the well, Samedi smells his sleeve and scrunches his nose, “Damn.” He laughs, “That whore ruined my clothes.” The smell of soot and fire stained his coat, and the person he blames for this smell is that of a certain red-headed cop. “Such a mouth on that fucking pompous bitch and coincidentally, the same hair-color” he chuckles, “just like my damn Maman Brigitte.” He continues swinging his baton around and strolls toward the town of Purgatory, letting out another psychotic laugh, “I wonder if they even moan the same.”    


	2. Scratching Her Surface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She puts both her hands up in a questioning manner, “You’re not someone one would call ordinary, and I had my suspicions for quite a while.” Her face lightens, “I’m also positive Dolls knew hiding it from you would be next to impossible.” Nicole didn’t just graduate from the top of her academy out of pure luck. Her keen sense of observation to details and human interaction gave her an upper hand with being selected as a candidate for Nedley’s hand-picked candidates, that and her past involvements with a variety of potential supernatural cases opened her mind for endless possible outcomes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Episode 1x09, 1x12, 2x02, 2x10, and 2x12 were the episodes I received my inspiration from for this chapter. Well, inspiration comes from all the episodes, but those were the ones where little looks, comments, and remarks made me wonder about potential theories for the show.
> 
> Man, this one was a tough one. After a few coffee cups, and by a few, I mean two cups of coffee and one cup of green tea, my brain and fingers started working away. Don't worry. College prepped me to be a caffeine addict. 
> 
> Next chapter will be a run-through of Nicole's and Samedi's flashback.

“And you’re sure he went-” Wynonna Earp flicks her hands up in the air, motioning what happens when things go kaboom in a cloud of smoke.

“Poof?” Nicole Haught finishes as she continues writing down reports of the fire incident caused by, well, her and Jeremy Chetri.

A slightly over-hyped Jeremy (probably from the mass amounts of caffeine) points towards Nicole, “Nicole, THIS Nicole totally showed Samedi who was boss! You should have seen her.” He threw some files down to the ground, reenacting Nicole shooting the hat. “Man, it was so cool just like that episode on- oh, whoops.” Quickly realizing his actions, he immediately begins picking up the now scattered files off the floor of the office.

“Talk about literally blowing up over a hat.” Wynonna says, chuckling towards Nicole’s direction with a smirk on her face, “Such a badass move, Haught. Just remember to save some for me and big boy here, okay?” She says, patting Peacemaker a few times.

Nicole grins, showing her dimples, “Sure, Earp. I’ll leave a few of the psychos for you,” She pauses for a moment, “after you get some rest.”  

Not hearing the last part, Wynonna walks over to Nicole’s desk, “That’s all I ask for **Sheriff** Haught.” She winks, sighing ever so quietly, “Though psycho might be an understatement for what we’ll be dealing with. You know, almighty evil and all.” She rolls her eyes, resting her head, well, more of just face-planting her head onto Nicole’s desk.

“Hey,” Nicole stops her writing, “We will stop this, this whatever this is” She waits until Wynonna lifts her face up from her face-down position on her arm before continuing her pep talk to the elder Earp, “In the meantime, how many hours have you been sleeping a night?” She asks, not forgetting to bring up the sleep talk a second time.

“Just enough to recover from an Earp hangover.” Answers Wynonna, redirecting Nicole’s question as an exit to the conversation, “Speaking of which, I have some whiskey to finish! Tell Waves I said hi!" 

Before Nicole can say anything, Wynonna walks towards the exit but stops midway when a certain long-haired brunette with a coffee cup in each hand blocks her way, “And just where have you been!”

“Oh! Just in time,” Wynonna grabs the younger Earp and pulls her over to Nicole’s desk, still being careful of the hot contents Waverly had in her hands, “Haught here, was just asking for you, and what do ya know, here you are. What a great girlfriend!”

The moment Waverly’s eyes met Nicole she smiles, but then realizes the situation at hand, “Don’t you change the subject; I haven’t seen you in days!” Waverly yells, setting one cup down on the table, then grabs onto her sister’s wrist until Jeremy’s voice caught her attention.

“Waverly! Hiya!”

Taking the chance, Wynonna throws her ‘I dunno man’ hand sign in the air, and grabs the other cup from Waverly’s hand, “Man, you two have some sort of connection. Well, gotta go I’m gonna miss happy hour at Shorty’s!” She runs out of the office before Waverly could catch her while yelling something in the background, “Thanks for the coffee!”  

“Wait-that’s…” Waverly turns her attention over towards Jeremy, “Jeremy!" 

“Oh, whoops… Dangit Jeremy.” He sighs and starts waving again, this time a bit more slowly, “So, no hi?”

Waverly lets out a huff and finally grins while waving to him, “Hi Jeremy.” He waves back and returns to his work on the computer. She turns back to Nicole with an even bigger smile, “And hi, baby.” She points to the coffee on Nicole’s desk, “Well, this one is yours, but the other one is filled with extra sugar and cream so HAH to her.” She turns around sticking her tongue out to the already gone Wynonna.

Nicole takes the cup into her hands and takes a big whiff of the aroma of coffee, “You are my favorite.” She sips from the cup and smiles widely when placing the cup back down, “Coffee tastes so much better when it’s given to you by your crush.”

“Oh, hush you.” Waverly giggles then lightly punches Nicole when there are no further compliments, “I’m kidding! Keep going.” They both laugh until Waverly notices the bags underneath her girlfriend’s eyes. With a frown, she softens her voice to a more delicate tone, “Nedley has you working overtime these days, huh?”

She pushes the left side of her lip over to the right a bit, smiling ever so lightly once Nicole sees Waverly’s face, “He just wants things to be a bit tighter around here.” She says, cooling off her cup of coffee with light blow to its top. Ever since the widows caused the awakening of Bulshar, the situation at the police station was far from peaceful. Besides the paperwork, Nicole and Jeremy recently connected several dots and messages concerning Theodore Roosevelt, Wyatt Earp and the creation of Black Badge Division. So, of course, her eyes are a bit sluggish and maybe her bones ache a bit, but none of this matter to the girl. She was so close to uncovering the truth. Dolls gave her the okay on further investigating the cult, and while she was overwhelmed, she did not want to give this chance up. However, keeping her previous cult investigations under wraps from the Earp sisters was not an easy feat. She knew Waverly would be concerned and she had every right. The past month has been rough for them, hell, this past week was busy for everyone, especially Waverly and Wynonna. Wynonna gave up her baby, and Nicole is positive the stress has kept the elder Earp sleepless for a few nights. Waverly, albeit a bit better off, has her own investigation of answers leading to her own. However, despite her own troubles, Waverly still made it a habit to bring in a cup of coffee to Nicole’s desk every so often. Noticing the worried look, Nicole holds up the gift of the coffee cup in her right hand, “But no worries, I have this cup of beauty to keep me going.”

Seeing as Nicole could still make jokes gave Waverly a speck of relief; nevertheless, she grabs Nicole’s hand along with the cup of coffee with both her hands, “Okay, if you say so. Wynonna’s been working hard too and it just gets a bit lonely at the Homestead when both of you out and about.” Waverly knows Nicole has been dealt a lot of work with what is going on in Purgatory. She just feels lonely from time to time and just feeling Nicole’s touch makes her feel a bit calmer.

Frowning, Nicole takes her free hand to grasp Waverly’s, “Once I finish with work I will come over tonight.” She says, taking a peak to see if anyone is looking and sees Jeremy’s face plastered to the computer screen. Normally she hates PDA while in uniform, but she wants Waverly to have clarity that she is not alone and kisses the top of her hand, “Promise.”

Smiling ear to ear, Waverly tightens her grip then relentlessly lets go of the other’s hands, any longer, and she might jump over the desk and smother Nicole with hugs and kisses. She pouts and turns towards he door, “Love you. I will see you tonight.” She says, winking to Nicole while walking out the exit.

Nicole smiles at the sight of her girlfriend’s backside. Just how she ended up with such a girl, she will never know. What she does know, however, is that she will do whatever she can do to keep Waverly and her sister safe is her top priority.

Taking her out of her thoughts, Jeremy scrambles around some paperwork from his desk, “Guessing Wynonna hasn’t been home lately?” Jeremy asks, pretending to be engrossed with the computer screen.

Nicole takes another sip of coffee, “I guess not.” She looks over to Jeremy, squinting her eyes at his obvious blank computer screen and asks, “So, how much do you know already?”

His eyes go large and he hesitates answering Nicole, “Well, Theodore and Wyatt seem to have connect-“

“No, Jeremy. I meant how much do you know about the case involving the cult.” She stops him midway, knowing the genius already had an idea of the file Dolls had given to her a few months ago.

“You knew?”

She puts both her hands up in a questioning manner, “You’re not someone one would call ordinary, and I had my suspicions for quite a while.” Her face lightens, “I’m also positive Dolls knew hiding it from you would be next to impossible.” Nicole didn’t just graduate from the top of her academy out of pure luck. Her keen sense of observation to details and human interaction gave her an upper hand with being selected as a candidate for Nedley’s hand-picked candidates, that and her past involvements with a variety of potential supernatural cases opened her mind for endless possible outcomes.  

Jeremy runs his hand through his hair and laughs, “I also know why he didn’t want me involved with this case, but don’t worry, I totally understand.” He says, cleaning off his desk and grabbing the paperwork he was working on, “But if you need information, I am your guy.”

Nicole stands up and stops Jeremy from walking out, “Hey, remember that you are part of this family.”

He smiles and thanks Nicole, “Thank you and Nicole?”

“Hmm?”

“Remember that you aren’t alone anymore.” He says, leaving Nicole alone with her work.

Nicole sits back down and scrummages through her drawer of files and finds a box with a 6-digit lock sequence. She enters the digits and opens the box to find several letters, photos, and a case file labeled “Cult of Bulshar”. Back when she first opened the file, her immediate attention was drawn to the name Jeremy Chetri. This cult required sacrifices, human sacrifices, and according to these files, Jeremy was the only sacrifice who was recovered and brought back to safety. At least, he was the only recorded survivor. His body had been torn and dismembered, and it was a miracle the boy was alive enough to be operated upon. She sighs, sitting back in her chair, her brain scrambling with all the information presented to her. This is what she has been working towards. The file, BBD, Jeremy, the ring, and her promotion all hitting her in sequences sure was messing with her sanity. They say keeping promises defies the norm. Even when death is upon a mortal, a single promise can be enough strength to pull through heaven and hell. Despite these times, Nicole knew for sure her own promise kept her alive all these years. Her first kept her alive and her second will keep her living.

 

 **Flashback to Hospital**  

The man, even with a clearly banged up face and bruised ribs, refused to stay still in the hospital bed. As Nicole reached his room she gave a loud knock, indicating her presence in the room, “Knock, knock.”

“Deputy Haught, come on in.” He tried motioning her with his limp arm to walk into his room. 

Receiving the okay, Nicole walked over and sat down next to the sheriff, “Really got banged up, didn’t you?” She looked down at his face and saw the swollen eye, the slightly bruised lip, the cuts on his face, and the other bandages along his body.

Seeing her face, Nedley attempted in brightening up the mood, “Now, don’t you worry yourself. I have seen much worse days than this.” He chuckled and coughed at the same time. “I will say though, with me here, I’ll be needing someone to take charge of that jungle office.” Nicole’s eyes opened widely and attempted to interrupt, but Nedley stopped her, “Nuh uh, listen here, Haught. I told you once, and I will tell you again. You are my best deputy and if anyone is going to be the next sheriff, it is you. Now I know this is a bit earlier than expected, but time is not on our side.”

“But sir-“

“Look,” He said sternly, “This town has secrets that you need to know, and these secrets will put you in danger, but you already knew that.” He always thought of Nicole as a part of his family, and giving her such responsibilities pained him the closer the two became. He also knew if anyone would keep the townspeople safe, it would be Officer Nicole Haught. Despite losing all she had, Nedley’s best deputy rose from the ashes and fought her way against everyone and anything in her way. Reluctantly, he continues further instructions to Nicole, “As protectors, we must not let our emotions get the better of us. Now, I know you love Waverly and everyone else, but sometimes there are actions to be taken to protect those you love. Of all people, you should understand what I am saying to you.” Nedley knew of Nicole’s circumstances and in the beginning, pitied the girl for facing such trials in her lifetime. He quickly realized that pitying her would get him into an earful of yelling. Not only did Nicole reach the top of her class, she did it without the help of others. Nedley just couldn't help but be a bit overprotective of the girl in front of him. 

She had so much to ask Nedley and just thinking about him being gone from Purgatory made her eyes a little watery. Stifling back the tears, she turned her attention to Nedley and joked, “You still gotta show me the ropes around this town, Sheriff.” She gives Nedley an affirmative nod. “I will protect Purgatory.”  

 

**Present Time**

Nicole’s attention is fixated on the files in front of her, “You have my word Sheriff Nedley.” She pulls out a silver ring with a ruby-like stone in its center from the chain around her neck, hidden underneath her uniform. “Bulshar.” A name she never thought she would have to hear again, at least, not this soon. She dreamt of the day she would reach Purgatory, a day where she would find out what really happened to her all those years ago. What really happened to her real parents and just how far involved were they? Who were her they? She rubs her temples just thinking about the last time she spoke to her adopted parents. The parents she thought would always love and care for her. The ones who said they would love her no matter what. So much for blood, not that they were blood related anyways. They threw her out the moment she came out to them, and along with kicking her out, they decided it was also the best time to shout out that she had been adopted. Not that she was not aware of the last part. 

She always knew something was amiss with her so-called family. She just wished everyone around her would just tell her the truth. _Jesus, she acted the same way towards Waverly by hiding the DNA results._ Nicole shivers, thinking about her own mistakes. Her second mistake was running off to Las Vegas and getting hitched. Not that Shay is a terrible person, in fact, she really enjoys her presence, but that is all they will ever be, friends. Friends who got drunk and got married. Maybe she needed to go through all those time, after all, the trip to Las Vegas finally made her realize what she needed to do, which was finding answers to the missing gap. Nicole left behind everything. Turns out everything meant nothing and her true family was here in Purgatory. Of course she tried reconciling with her parents before leaving, but the two of them could not and would not accept their daughter as one of their own. They raised her to be a young respectable woman, one who will obey and submit to her husband, one who follows the path her parents have taught her and when Nicole did none of the above, they pushed her out and told her never to come back. Nicole chuckles bitterly to herself, fighting back the tears attempting to fall from her eyes.  _No more. No more crying._


	3. She's a Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things happen without you having to do anything, sometimes you just exist and things just... happen. When those things happen, you just learn to cope and survive. Backstory of Nicole Haught as a baby in the woods with life happening before she even knows how to talk or walk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is just a flashback of what I'd think Nicole Haught's backstory would be like. Since it is a flashback, some of the characters from Wynonna Earp are only briefly mentioned, Next chapter will continue off from season 3 with a focus more on the main characters.

A dark forest is eerie enough as is, add in hooded shadows gathering around a bronze 2-foot weighing scale while chanting ominous incantations, and you have yourself a demon summoning right out of a horror movie. Phrases unfamiliar to the outside world, yet to one understanding of the language, would be cautious enough to just turn a blind eye. In this group stood ten people, all varying in height and sizes, chanting and watching a man raising his arms above the rest, signaling the sudden halt to the incantations.

The fabric covering his arms revealed scars ranging from small to deep cuts on his arms, some were fresh while others seem newly slashed. His voice is deep, raspy almost, yet had the tone of someone who frequently speaks to large audiences. His articulation of words and considerate tone echoes above the cracking of the fire. “Sisters, brethren, today is the day.” He lowers his arms to his side, turning to two other hooded figures, one holding a child in their arms and another guiding his partner towards the leader. In the arms of the figure held a light-skinned baby girl, one with slightly reddish hair growing out from her scalp. Her cries of fear to the unknown strangers grew louder and louder yet no one did a thing to calm the baby down. The hooded man places each hand on the figures holding each baby, “Today, we shall open the gates of Purgatory!” He leads the two towards the center, “Thank you for your tribute to the utmost high.”

“It is our duty to serve.” Both replied in unison, handing over the baby to the man. Their statures suggested one woman, possibly the mother of the soon-to-be sacrificed baby. Hands were slightly shaking, potentially from regret and shame of sacrificing human bodies to fulfill what, a way to open some gates?

Seeing the hesitation in the woman, the man calms her down with sweet words. “With the blood of the first-born female of a family, a new gate of Purgatory will make its way into the world.” He says, placing the baby onto the ground in the center of the hooded individuals. “Rest easy my children, for you have done your part. With the world choking our brethren and sisters, nothing can save us. Nothing, except for the utmost high.” He looks at the mother, signaling her to return to the others, “Now, I must complete the ritual.” He takes a flask out filled gasoline and drizzles its contents to form a circle just enough to fit inside. Cries of the baby shrieked the woods, and as she shrieked the incantations began once more, overwhelming the cries of the innocent.

The chants were short-lived when out of the trees, shots fired silently bringing down the hooded figures one by one. No one realized what was happening, at least, not until the chants grew quieter. Once the fear settled in, legs were running, each person shot down before reaching out from the fire’s light. Just as the leader realized what was happening outside of the fire, he stopped his chanting and looked around to see nothing but flames and dead bodies spread all around him. His time was almost up. Taking out a knife, the man looked at the baby and goes to slice the throat of the girl. As he holds his arm up, a bullet hits his hand, knocking the knife into the flames. He looks around for his attackers; before he gets a glimpse of their faces, his chest receives a sharp pain. A pain so unfamiliar, so foreign, yet he knew what would happen next. He touches his chest and sees red. _Blood_. His lips now quivering, he utters his last words and falls to the ground, “Long live, Bulshar.” 

“Target is down. No survivors.” Says the person holding the radio receiver. She waits for her next command, signaling the other agents to check the surrounding area for any survivors, none of which, were to remain alive. She climbed down from the tree she hid from and made her way over to the patch dirt where the cult held its summoning. She looked around the flames of the burning fire, the crying, however, were silent. “Someone put out the fire and grab the scale.”

Two of the agents rush over to extinguish the flames with dirt and extinguishers, putting out the flames and smoke. One body slightly covered in soot laid in the middle of the circle etched into the ground. The woman walks over to the once flamed area and shakes her head. One man with a bullet through his chest and a baby whose body was covered in soot. _She was just a child._  She bent down to check the pulse of the light-toned baby, frowning to herself, “Dead.” She does the same to the man and confirms that his pulse is also gone. She radios her commander, “Twelve dead.”

There is a second of silence before the man over the radio responds, “Return to base and don’t forget the scale.”

“Over and out.” She takes one last look at the baby lying peacefully on the ground before calling out orders to the other agents, “Grab the bodies and burn them all.” 

“Yes, ma’am.” Both agents pick up a body one by one until only a few are left behind.

Before grabbing the last few, the agent in charge of the mission senses the presence of others, "Leave the rest to me. You two go back and make sure the tracks to this place are hidden and anyone in sight have been taken care of."

"Yes, ma'am."

With the two gone, she returns her attention to her right, pointing out to the intruders their presence is known, “Letting us do all the hard work, hmm?” She asks the men in red hoods, her annoyance apparent in her tone of voice. “If you all are going to just wait until the end, how about doing me a favor and clean up this mess.” 

“You and I both know my brothers and me prefer a more,” The voice came closer, coming to a halt at the scene before him, "less messier way of cleaning up a demon mess." A man bent down, grabbing a handful of snow stained in red.

"Juan Carlo." The agent responded, "To what do I have the pleasure of your presence?" 

Juan moved his fingers, relishing in the feel of the cold snow, "My brothers and I caught wind of these gatherings and-" 

"And nothing because we have already taken care of the situation." Responded the agent.

He crushed the snow in his hand, dropping the remains onto the ground, "That's what you Black Badge lackeys do the best," He arises from his former position, making note of the situation before him, "causing a ruckus and swooping right in to clean up the mess. How very noble of you." He walks towards a body, lingering over its remains while shaking his head, "Just when we could have captured one of the cult members alive," He takes a look back at the agent, "you go and shoot everyone." 

The agent's eyes dart to the side, not meeting with Juan's face, "Child or not, no one is to be left alive." Her thoughts drift back to the newborn baby laying in the cold snow.  _Damn it to hell._

"Orders are orders." Juan turns to his group of followers, "Brethren, we leave." He takes another glance at the agent, "Until next time. Oh, and remember... Orders are orders." 

The woman's mouth begins to open, wanting to scream profanities and doubts of her commander's orders. This is the job she signed up for and this is the job shackling her against her own humanity. The stench of soot and blood will never become normal, how could it not? _No survivors, lest they be sent to the depths of BBD._ She scans the area one more time, checking the premises for any witnesses or for any signs of life. Her tracks come to a stop at the small body of the baby.  _I'm sorry little one. I'm so sorry._ As she goes to pick up the baby, she notices movement from its chest.  _It can't be. No, no, I just checked her pulse._ Checking once more, the woman slowly puts her hand around the face of the soot covered baby.  _She's warm._ As if a button had been pressed, the baby coughs and cries, making sure those around her knew she was still alive and well. The tears she held back flowed generously down her cheeks, slightly dripping onto the baby, "Little one. Just, just how did you make it out alive?" She wiped away the soot from the baby's face, chuckling at how happy she seemed, "You don't even know how much of a survivor you are."  _No survivors._ On instinct, the agent looked around to see if anyone had been near her or heard the cries, "No survivors." She whispers, wiping away the remaining soot to get a clear view of the baby, "But you are a survivor."  _Survivor._ Her hands shake, her thoughts in turmoil, her surrounding becoming darker and darker as she thinks of all the possibilities of her choices. Snapping her out of her thoughts was the baby, holding her finger with the entirety of her hand, "No. No, I can't let them take you." She knew the lengths to which BBD would take if they had their hands on a cult survivor. The tests, the experiments, the torture - all things she has seen first-hand yet never did anything to stop such cruel actions. 

"Ma'am, are you finished?" 

Hearing the voices of her fellow agent snapped her out of her thoughts and caused the baby to become startled, once more crying itself out of fear.

With the cries so evident, the agent paused his steps and asked, "Is that-" 

_No. No. What do I do? They'll-_

"The little one made it out. Her pulse was non-existent when I checked." She moved the baby from her position and began rocking the small one in attempts to calm her down.

The other agent scratched his head, "I will call the commander and let her know." 

"Wait-" She now stands up with the baby still in her arms, "do we have the names of these people?" 

He looks at her in confusion, "We do, but just look at this scene. Her parents are dead. The best we can do is bring her back to BBD." 

"And then what?" 

"What do you mean?" His answer is quick and down to the point, "What the higher ups do with a baby is none of my concern. You should also know that orders are orders." 

Her grip on the baby in her arms tighten, "I-I can't do that." 

"Agent Colette, what's gotten into you." He puts his hand on his holster, "Orders. Are. Orders. You of all people should know what we do to traitors." 

"She's just a baby." She also puts one arm to her holster, "You know very well what they will put her through if I give her up to them!" Her voice growing louder and more desperate, "I can't do that. Not to a child." 

He lets out a sigh, "God damn, we can't all just waver from our mission because of emotions." His voice is stern but there is a hint of compassion, "What are you going to do now, take care of her as your own? Send her to a loving home?" He points to the rest of the bodies, "Agent, she was in a cult! How is she supposed to live out her life with this hanging over her. She will ask questions and when no one knows them, well, she will go seeking them out." He shakes his head, "One way or another, BBD will find her."

The agent in command grits her teeth at the brutal reality, "I know. Silas," She almost breaks at saying his name, "I know that but I can't just willingly throw away this child's life." She takes a glance at the baby, "There has to be a reason why she survived." 

He clenches his hand on the holster, reluctantly releasing his grip while holding full eye contact with his fellow agent, "If you really believe this is the right thing. Run. Run now and don't come back." 

"You're just letting me go?"

"I said run! God damn they're expecting twelve dead bodies and if one comes up missing they will know." He takes out his gun in one swift motion, "Run now before I shoot you both dead." He has never told her, mainly due to their line of duty, but something about Colette just made the job so much more tolerable. Perhaps it was due to her not losing complete humanity. 

She gives one last nod to her fellow agent mouthing 'be careful' before running out of his sight. 

Silas kicks the snow beneath him, "Jesus, Colette... how will I explain this one."

"You're not." 

A pain strikes his leg as he instantly falls down to his knees, "You really put a damper on our celebration." A man dressed in army attire walks out dragging a body along with him. "Your friend here became a nuisance to me so I simply rid of him, along with his head." 

His head. "He really didn't use his head that much. You really just did him a favor." He tries to make light of the situation, despite the growing pain from the bullet wound in his calf, his former headless dead agent companion, and this uninvited stranger arriving in the midst of a sacrifice gone ambushed.

The stranger's demeanor never faltered, continuing his way towards Silas. 

With the gun still in his hand Silas shoots at the man, blood running cold as he realizes the bullet went straight through and hit the trees instead, "Well, shit. Looks like my lucky day." He takes the gun pointing it to his own head, "I'm not telling you shit." He pulls the trigger, awaiting for the darkness to come afterwards, however, nothing happens and his hand is still on the trigger. Wait, his hand is definitely holding onto the gun, but so is something else. He looks up to see the other man standing above him holding the gun with it pointing inches away from Silas's head. "Super speed? Great. Just fucking great." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My oh my. To be honest, after watching episode 1 of Wynonna Earp season 3 I just HAD to finish this draft. I wasn't sure if I should tweak it to match up to the original plot, in the end, I am sticking to my own theory I had last year. I am so sorry to the readers for not updating sooner T_T. I let life get the better of me. Good thing a friend mentioned Wynonna Earp was on Netflix, because that definitely rekindled the urge to finish this story. The next chapter is already in draft and hopefully I can get it out before 3x04!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are no happy endings, just endings to which we make out to seem happy or sad. An ending to which we may not even know about the beginning, yet we fill in the gaps to create a story with a starting and ending point. In this chapter we will attempt to fill in those gaps.

**Several Weeks After**

Colette, now hundreds of miles out of Purgatory, lulls the baby in her arms to sleep while riding on a bus to, well, anywhere. All traces of her were gone from existence. She, just like anyone else who attempted escaping BBD, was just trying to see how long she could keep this game of cat and mouse up. With the baby now asleep, her thoughts drifted towards the future for both her and this young baby.

Who was she kidding? No way could she be on the run while taking care of the baby. Why didn't she just give her up to BBD? Besides, orders are orders and without orders, there would be no laws and without laws comes chaos and anarchy. Sooner or later, BBD would catch up to her. What would she do then? Colette's thoughts strung her deeper and deeper into darkness until the bus came to a sudden stop. She peeked out of the window, noticing the place she needed to go to was just around the corner, she gets off the bus and walks towards a small, yet well put together building.

She knocks at the door, revealing a woman in her mid-thirties, "Colette, my dear! It's been way too long and-" She then takes notice of the baby, "and you are with a child." The woman looks around outside and quickly ushers Colette into the building, "Come, you must be starving from your travels." She places a bowl of soup in front of Colette and sits beside her, "I suppose the father could have been a redhead, but I must ask, is she yours?"

"That's kind of why I am here." Both women sit in silence as Colette relays the past few weeks events, minus the name of the cult. "I really need your help and so does she, and-" She strokes the head of the girl, "And Nicole doesn't deserve a place in that place."

The woman next to her smiles, "She is safe here." She smiles at the smiling baby, "I will take care of all the papers and make sure she is put into a loving family. You have my word."

 

**Seven Years Later**

"Please, please can I go with Auntie?" Now standing a little over 4 foot tall, a redhead girl begs her mom about the ever-so-exciting music festival happening a few hundred miles from her hometown.

The room the two are in is a cool beige color, windows surrounding the sink thus allowing natural lighting to give a more comfortable feel to the kitchen area. There is a smell of vanilla dipped donuts, perhaps more vanilla than donut smelling. Three other residents occupy the home, all spread throughout the house busy doing their own activities. 

"Now, Nicole you know this is a long way from home," She is seen cutting carrots in preparation for lunchtime, "and Auntie can't just take you home if you start feeling homesick." 

Nicole folds her arms, thinking of a solution to convince her mom she can leave home for a few days, "What if I do the laundry for a week!" Her mom briefly takes a look at her daughter then returns to her prep cooking, "Okay... how about a whole month!" 

Smirking at her own victory, the mother responds, "We can work with that."

"Yes!" Nicole fist pumps the air and runs out to the living area, "Auntie! Mom said I can go!" 

A woman yells back at the woman, "Thanks, sis!" Shuffling is heard as the woman walks into the kitchen. She is in her mid-twenties, young beautiful and still has that new marriage smell. "What made you change your mind?" 

Nicole's mother smiles, "One month of laundry." 

\-------

"Okay, you have everything, right?" Nicole's mom asks while holding the doorframe of the backseat. 

Nicole pulls her beanie over her head and gives a toothy grin, "Don't worry mom. I gots everything!" She waves to her father who is standing by the doorway bundled up in a blanket. 

"Love you, kiddo!" He waves back, "Love you but man this blanket is so much warmer!" 

The occupants of the car and Nicole's mother chuckle at Mr. Haught's inability to withstand cold weather, despite being well, a Haught. 

"Make sure she gets back in one piece," Mrs. Haught gives a glance to her sister who is sitting next to Nicole and brother-in-law who is in the driver seat, "I'd like to at least see her go off to college." 

The man in the driver seat laughs, "Don't worry. I'm sure Nicole will keep us safe. We will be back in a few days!" With those words, he drives off leaving behind the image of her young daughter waving back to those remaining at the house. 

 

**Road to Purgatory**

"Wakey wakey sleepy head." Nicole's eyes flutter open while she lets out a loud yawn, "Who was the one telling me she'd stay up the entire car ride, hmm?"

Nicole is laying across the back seat with her head on her aunt's lap. She rubs her eyes, "It was me... but I just got so sleepy!" 

Her aunt lays her hand across her niece's eyes, "Well, just a few more minutes and we will be there, okay?" 

Instead of returning back to sleep, Nicole shoots up into a sitting position, "No way! I wanna see where we are at!" She peers out the window, hoping to see a cool scenery, only to be greeted with flat lands and a road. "Um, what happened to nature?" 

"It's about five miles ahead, Nicole." She points to a sign ahead of the car reading 'Welcome to Purgatory', "We are almost there." She taps to her niece's shoulder, "Remember, no wandering around by yourself okay?"

\------- 

 _Screaming. Yelling. Smoke._ "Aunt-tie, Uncle..." She manages to mutter, her voice hoarse possibly from the smoke and fire surrounding the wooded area. Nicole finds herself laying on the ground with something sticky in her right hand. As she goes to look she sees red, a deep red overcomes her senses along with a strong smell of metal. Her entire body is shaking, yet she has no idea what just happened to her and why everything went black. She touches her face, staining the places she has touched with the blood of- of her aunt. She realizes something wrong just happened, something not normal and now her aunt and uncle are in a puddle of red liquid. Nicole knows **something** is wrong and wants to scream. She wants to scream at the top of her lungs but the lack of energy and a pain in her chest prevents her from doing so. She reaches for the pain and notices a stinging sensation. _More red._ "Auntie, it hurts" She cries, the tears held back from the shock now flows down her blood-stained cheeks. 

In the cloud of smoke, she makes out a single figure from afar, _a man in leather,_ she notes to herself. Her body resists her mind, telling her to just lay down and feign death. Her body says stay, but her mind says  **survive**. She looks around for any signs of escape. Anything looking remotely possible to a hiding spot could work. The man in leather is close, she can sense him. She does not know why, but something about this man is anything short of a monster.

The man in leather stops to look around at his doing, pleased with everything, he makes his leave. When Nicole felt him out of sight, she makes a run towards the woods. Despite her entire body saying no, Nicole runs for dear life, managing to make it into the woods. Her adrenaline is pumping and not until she comes to a complete stop near a river did she notice her face all covered in her own blood and others, her clothes ripped, and the blood gushing out from the injury. Everything hits at once and the seven-year-old crumbles to her feet, "H-h-help" She mutters, knowing no one will be coming to her rescue. 

Her eyes shut, looking around for a voice. _Where am I?_ She turns a full circle in place yet hears nothing, "Is-is someone there?" Her hands shaking, her teeth quivering and all the nerves in her body seem to shut down in hopes of a savior to turn up. 

She sees the shadow of what looks like the man from before and shuts her eyes closed, imagining herself running, running far away as she can from the man. From everything. Her imagination takes her to a place where she is spending her birthday with her mom, dad, uncle, and aunt. There would be an extravagant dinner laid out and dad would be cracking up all sorts of jokes. Instead of this image, here she stands covered in blood and quivering at the sight of a monster, no, of a demon. "Someone." She quietly says, clutching at her wound. "Please." She says those words with all the energy and allows her body to fall to the ground. 

The clouds shed no light for him, nor do the shadows capture his skeleton-like figure. White gloves cover his hands and in his right is the half-lit cigar, with each passing step, slowly singeing away. Twirling his baton, he whistles an eerie tune into the air. The cycle repeats itself. He whisles then takes a puff.  _Puff._ In goes the smoke.  _Puff._ Out goes the smoke. Back to whistling, he goes. Black and gray clouds escape his chapped lips. "So much work with so little appreciation." He says, still taking puffs from his cigar, "What a fucking mess." The gifts offered for his services kept him in good tithings with both ends of the spectrum, more so the spectrum of hell. He takes a few more steps going closer to the sound of a running stream and to his surprise, he spots a child. 

Coming a bit closer to the body he takes notice of the red hair, “Just like my damn Maman Brigitte.” He says, now inching closer and closer. Once he has a clear view of the child he shakes his head  _Tsk Tsk._ Dear sweet children, just as quickly as they entered the world, they must also be lead back to the underworld. It wasn't until he was much closer to the body that he notices the mark of Bulshar carved into the child's skin, "That demon has no damn manners." 

"H-hello?" 

His thoughts stop when he hears quiet sounds coming out of the girl's mouth, "Little one. Here I thought you were dead." 

She smiles, despite not knowing who the person hovering above her, she smiles. "I like your hat." 

"Well, thank you, my dear child!" He lets out a hefty laugh, "My, I haven't seen someone so dead to be smiling so lively." He sees the extent of her injuries and knows her time also coming to its end, "Tell me, are you scared of me?" 

She shakes her head slowly, "No, you just smell like peppers." With what little strength she had left in her, she manages to still make light of the situation. "Who are you?" She asks. Of course, she sees his figure. The skeletal figure. This man, or what is left of the man, has the presence of a more shapely figure. His normal appearance is one much more, elegant, charming, and a bit of muscle on the bones. Yet something about him is calming, at least, more calming than anything she faced in the past twenty minutes. 

“Baron Samedi.” He answers, glaring down at the young girl. "I like you, girl." He crouches down, placing his hand on her forehead, "Do not worry, your grave shall not be dug today." 

"It hurts." She admits. Of course, it hurts. She has slices all over her body and who knows how much blood she has lost.

Samedi places his hand over the injuries, "I told you. Do not worry. These injuries will not scar, and this day will be just a mere nightmare waiting for you to wake up." Digging the graves is his job, but he feels today there had been quite a number of graves which needed to be dug after the cult's killing spree. If he was going to spare anyone, Baron Samedi could at least spare the life of a helpless child.

She blinks slowly and begins to open her mouth "Than-" before she finishes her eyes shut and her breathing becomes slower. 

Samedi takes a moment to pick her up from the ground and carry her bridal style in his arms. He lets out a sigh at his weak spot for children and begins walking towards a tree nearby the river, laying her there so she can sleep away her nightmares. "You are a strange one." He walks away, taking one last glance at the small child, "But you are also a survivor." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't quite expect to finish this early, but I really wanted to finish this before Friday's episode. 
> 
> This chapter was inspired by 2x12, 3x01, and 3x03. Let me know in the comments of what you think and see you all around later, Earpers!


End file.
